Under the Infomercial Lights
by Lazerwolf314
Summary: Follows Poison Pill. Midnight finds her curled in a ball on her couch because it's impossible to sleep with the feeling of death still coated on her skin, no matter how many times she's showered. Mildly angsty, hyper fluffy and utterly, adorably pre-McCollins.


Midnight finds her curled in a ball on her couch, thick blanket wrapped tightly about her shoulders and illuminated only by the flickering lights of the television. In her grasp is a half empty pint of chocolate ice cream, hands nearly numb with the cold. Staring blankly at the television, not paying any attention to whatever late night infomercial is playing, Andy fights the urge to scratch at her neck when a phantom itch surfaces under her skin.

If she allows herself to think, she'll find herself back in that art gallery under the yellow light and death powdered across her flesh.

So she doesn't let herself think.

(For 4.95 plus shipping and handling, she can be the proud owner of a pair of dust mop slippers, a cheerful and over-excited woman tells her as she slides around a fake kitchen on her slippers. The information filters its way into Andy's brain and she lets it, happy to process anything, however mundane, if it keeps her mind occupied.)

The sudden chirp from her phone causes her to jump, breaking her one sided staring contest with the television and sending her spoon clattering to the floor. It skids under the coffee table, leaving a trail of melted chocolate in its wake, and Andy curses quietly. Depositing the ice cream container onto the table, she hunts through her nest of blankets for her phone, finally pulling it free from where its managed to wedge itself between the cushions under her legs.

It takes her a few seconds to unlock the device, her phone unwilling to register her cold fingers as real and she sticks her tongue out at it in frustration.

When it finally grants her access, the messaging app pops up to reveal a text from Nick. Thumbing it open, she reads silently, smiling slightly.

 _So what's the current infomercial standing?_

Shaking her head at Nick's message, warmth bubbling in her chest at how well he knows her, she taps out a quick response.

 _Well, the mop slippers are currently number one, but the wearable towel is putting up a strong fight._

Dropping her phone onto the coffee table, Andy unfolds herself from her warm cocoon and winces when her bare feet touch the cold floor. Wrapping her fluffy blanket around her shoulders like a cloak, she retrieves her spoon and heads to the kitchen to drop it into the sink. Grabbing a sheet of paper towel, she wanders back through the dark living room and sets about cleaning up her spilled ice cream.

Her phone chirps again, vibrating a small path around the ice cream container and Andy tosses the paper towel into the garbage before checking the device.

 _My money would be on the wearable towel. Toga party anyone?_

Laughing, Any crawls back into her couch nest and responds.

 _You just want any excuse to walk around without real pants on don't you? I remember all those pool parties undercover._

Nick's answer arrives a few seconds later.

 _Your point being? ;)_

 _Oh shut up :P_

When his next text appears, it immediately sends Andy into a fit of giggles.

 _Don't lie to me McNally, I know you'd think this body would look good in a wearable towel._

 _In your dreams Collins,_ she fires back through the snickers. As she laughs, an inexplicable rush of something rises in her chest at the image of Nick wearing only a toga-like towel, which then turns to the idea of Nick wearing just a towel.

(The image isn't born from just imagination; six months living undercover together meant lots of close quarter interactions.

And what an image it is.)

Quickly shutting down that train of thought, Andy refocuses on her phone when it buzzes once again.

 _Bear claw or crueler?_

Blinking at the abrupt change in conversation –

(but oddly relieved with it)

Andy frowns at her screen.

 _What?_

 _From Paul's Bakery. Do you want a bear claw or crueler?_

 _Nick, I'm fine, you don't have to go anywhere._

 _You and I both know that you are anything but fine if you're watching infomercials. And I was going for a drive anyway; it's a beautiful night out. So. Do you want a bear claw or crueler?_

Blinking at the inexplicable stinging behind her eyes, Andy sniffs.

(It's eerie how well the two of them know the other. Andy knows that whenever Nick drinks tea instead of coffee in the morning, he had a nightmare the night before, or that when he can't sleep, he needs to move. On the other hand, when Andy can't sleep, she watches pointless television and when she's having a bad day, she'll chew on whatever she can get her hands on.

There's only so many times they wake each other up, be it from shouts or by the sounds of overly cheerful announcers on the screen, before secrets start to be shared.)

 _Are you sure?_

 _McNally, just pick something already. I'm already at Paul's._

Letting out a shaky breath, Andy responds quickly.

 _Bear claw please._

 _One bear claw coming right up :) I'll text you when I'm at yours._

 _Thank you._

 _It's no problem Andy._

Tucking her phone back into the covers, Andy struggles to put a lid back on her wavering emotions.

(It doesn't help that, try as she might, every time she closes her eyes, she can feel the anthrax on her skin and it is making her twitch and squirm.

That very real brush with death, a death that she would have no control over because there's no way to control biological warfare, had left her more shaken than she was able to admit.

Being trapped with Marlo hadn't help, though she didn't deny she know had a grudging respect for the woman and, if she tried hard enough, could even see them maybe becoming friends one day.)

A few minutes spent learning about Pedi-paws and returning the half eaten container of ice cream to its icy home later, a chirp from her phone sounds nearly the same time as a quiet knock echoes from her door.

Smiling, she ignores her phone in favour of heading to the door, blanket still firmly wrapped tight. Unlocking the deadbolt, she pulls the door open and is greeted by a brown paper bag and the enticing scent of sugar and coffee. Looking past the proffered bag, she grins up at Nick and steps in to hug him.

She feels him tense under the sudden contact and it's a few seconds before his arms encircle her, making for an awkward hug given the bag and tray of coffee he carries in each hand respectively.

"Thanks Nick," she whispers, before pulling back and taking the bag and tray from him and retreating back into her darkened apartment.

It's a few seconds before he follows; since Andy's back is turned to him, she misses the curious look that crosses his features, a mixture of bafflement, surprise and something oddly close to joy. It's gone as quickly as it appears and he steps inside, toeing off his boots and locking the door behind him.

"So what are we learning about now?" he asks as he settles onto the couch next to her, taking his coffee from the tray and stealing a piece of bear claw just as she lifts it to her mouth. Popping it into his own, he smirks at her offended expression, only laughing when she punches him.

"Jerk," she mutters, before untucking a corner of her blanket and passing it to him.

He settles into it, and warps an arm around Andy's shoulder when she curls up next to him, one hand clutching her coffee and the other protectively wrapped around her bear claw, brown bag abandoned to the coffee table.

"Ready to learn all about an induction frying pan?" Andy asks from where her head is resting on his shoulder.

"Absolutely," Nick responds.

With her bear claw in hand and Nick's warmth at her side, Andy is able to slowly push back the intermittent chills and itches, carefully compartmentalizing the events of the day away. As her eyes grow heavy as the night wears on, they don't speak and that's how Andy is finally able to fall asleep without the taste of terror on the back of her tongue.

(What she doesn't see is how Nick keeps looking at her with a storm of emotions in his eyes, or does she know that, when she finally drifts off, he catches her half full coffee before it can fall from limp fingers. Stretching carefully, he sets it onto the coffee table, while making sure he doesn't jostle the woman tucked into his side. When he settles back, the emotions swell as she curls tighter into him in her sleep, and he allows himself to tuck the loose hairs falling across her nose back behind her ear.

And then he focuses back on the flickering television, mind not once leaving his partner.)

* * *

 _A/N: It's been awhile._

 _But my home is without internet for the foreseeable future, meaning I've been re-watching Season 4 of Rookie Blue (my all time fave) and it's caused stories to bloom. Because, I need to face it, McCollins is absolutely my OTP._

 _Please enjoy this stupidly lighthearted fluff; I'm sure there's more to come._


End file.
